appeared, " I am going to try our first experiment
with Count Fabio; and I think it of
great importance that you should be present
while I speak to him."

He took up the box with the mask in it,
and, beckoning to Nanina to follow him, led
the way to Fabio's chamber.

CHAPTER XII.

ABOUT six months after the events already
related, Signor Andrea d'Arbino, and the
Cavaliere Finello happened to be staying with
a friend, in a seaside villa on the Castellamare
shore of the Bay of Naples. Most of their
time was pleasantly occupied on the sea, in
fishing and sailing. A boat was placed entirely
at their disposal. Sometimes they loitered
whole days along the shore; sometimes made
trips to the lovely islands in the Bay.

One evening they were sailing near
Sorrento, with a light wind. The beauty of the
coast tempted them to keep the boat close in
shore. A short time before sunset, they
rounded the most picturesque headland they
had yet passed; and a little bay with a white
sand beach opened on their view. They
noticed first a villa surrounded by orange and
olive trees on the rocky heights inland — then
a path in the cliff-side, leading down to the
sands — then, a little family party on the
beach, enjoying the fragrant evening air.

The elders of the group were a lady and
gentleman, sitting together on the sand. The
lady had a guitar in her lap, and was playing
a simple dance melody. Close at her side, a
young child was rolling on the beach in
high glee: in front of her a little girl was
dancing to the music, with a very extraordinary
partner in the shape of a dog, who was
capering on his hind legs in the most
grotesque manner. The merry laughter of the
girl, and the lively notes of the guitar were
heard distinctly across the still water.

"Edge a little nearer in shore," said
d'Arbino to his friend, who was steering. " And
keep as I do in the shadow of the sail. I
want to see the faces of those persons on
the beach, without being seen by them."

Finello obeyed. After approaching just
near enough to see the countenances of the
party on shore, and to be barked at lustily
by the dog, they turned the boat's head again
to wards the offing.

"A pleasant voyage, gentlemen," cried the
clear voice of the little girl. They waved
their hats in return; and then saw her run
to the dog and take him by the fore legs.
"Play, Nanina," they heard her say. "I
have not half done with my partner yet."
The guitar sounded once more, and the
grotesque dog was on his hind legs in a moment.

"I had heard that he was well again, that
he had married her lately, and that he was
away with her, and her sister, and his child
by the first wife," said d'Arbino. " But I
had no suspicion that their place of retirement
was so near us. It is too soon to break
in upon their happiness, or I should have felt
inclined to run the boat on shore."

"I never heard the end of that strange
adventure of the Yellow Mask," said Finello.
"There was a priest mixed up in it, was
there not?"

"Yes; but nobody seems to know exactly
what has become of him. He was sent for to
Rome, and has never been heard of since.
The report is, that he volunteered to serve
on the new mission, despatched some months
since to Japan. In that case, he has gone
to almost certain death — for the last mission
perished under torture in the hands of the
natives. I asked his brother, the sculptor,
about him, a little while ago, but he only
shook his head, and said nothing."

"And the woman who wore the yellow
mask '?"

"She, too, has ended mysteriously. At
Pisa, she was obliged to sell off everything
she possessed to pay her debts. Some friends
of hers at a milliner's shop, to whom she
applied for help, would have nothing to do with
her. She left the city alone and penniless."

The boat had approached the next headland
on the coast, while they were talking. They
looked back for a last glance at the beach.
Still the notes of the guitar came gently
across the quiet water; but there mingled
with them now, the sound of the lady's voice.
She was singing. The little girl and the dog
were at her feet, and the gentleman was still
in his old place, close at her side.

In a few minutes more, the boat rounded
the next headland, the beach vanished from
view, and the music died away softly in the
distance.

WIGS.

A CORRESPONDENT of the Gentleman's
Magazine, in some back number — I am not
antiquary enough to desire more recondite
authority — says that the first wig was made
of a goat's skin and was worn by Saul. In
the British Museum there is an Egyptian wig
with flowing ringlets, manufactured, as I
think, before Saul's time. If I were myself
the wearer of the last wig I would burn
it, and so put an end to as unhandsome a
race of cheats as ever discredited humanity.

For the head of hair is the most worshipful
and noble part — the very crown — of the
whole human body. Hair is also set over
the eyes, which speak the language of the
soul, and over the mouth, which speaks
the language of the understanding. Some
nations have, indeed, attempted to conceal
the dominance of hair over the lips of man;
but it has, persistently, continued to
demand its place. The Greeks and
Romans offered the first-fruits of the human
temples to the temples of the gods. I
say no more. When Christians were
primitive, a man swore by his beard as by the
most precious thing he had, and the man